


A Good Thing

by MSpataro210



Series: Season 11 Inspired [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Castiel, Angsty Dean, Castiel is trapped in his own body, Coercion, Dean Doesn't Know, Dean still has self-worth issues, Lucifer still in possession of Castiel, Lucifer was the first fuckboi, M/M, Sexy Times, based off the promo for 11x11, fingering and dual masturbation is involved, ooc castiel, prob not going to happen on the show, slight mind control, some funny moments, spec fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 08:58:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5779675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MSpataro210/pseuds/MSpataro210
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After recent events, another close encounter, and a startling realization, Dean is finally starting to see his own mortality.  Billie's words echo in his mind and he knows that there is no coming back, and even though he wants to go through it alone... Castiel won't let him.  Words between them become heated as Castiel proves to Dean that just because he has an expiration date doesn't mean it has to be so soon.  And between now and then, there are some good things to enjoy...</p><p>But is it really Castiel who's telling him this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody! With Supernatural back, inspiration has struck me again!  
> I hope you all enjoy this work, I based it off that one line in the promo for the next episode "Into the Mystic". Now as a more clear warning there will be some sexual content and this is my first time writing anything like that. I really hope I did my best to make it seem as realistic as possible.  
> So this is the final warning: Dean does have feelings for Cas, he might not have been ready to admit them, but, well... Lucifer does what he does best.

            Dean leans against one of the walls in an unmarked room within the protected walls of the Bunker. He and Sam haven’t even mapped out some of this place, and the room he picked was very far out of the way to get to. Filled with artifacts and knickknacks and files from years gone by, and a window that looks out into nothing. There are some sigils on the wall he can barely make out, and some he can’t even begin to describe. There’s a musty smell from something that had to have expired… but it doesn’t faze him.

            He’s distracted. He’s thinking about certain events that almost led to his death… yet again. A different death, however: a death from which he could not return. An end to a book that could no longer be picked up once it’s put down.

            Dean needed to think about this: alone. It’s why he picked such a secluded place, deep within the maze of hallways and marble that makes up the Winchester home. He and Sam haven’t even mapped out a tiny corner of what must be a system of rooms spread throughout the state of Kansas.

            The perfect place to sort out his thoughts by himself…

            Or so he believed.

            “Dean?”

            The man in question startles, turning around to see his friend hovering inside the doorway. His head is tilted, and a strange mix of familiarity and uncertainty play within Dean.

            “Cas?” Dean swallows, “I didn’t, uh, think anybody would find me here.” He tries a smile.

            Castiel can see right through it.

            “I take it you didn’t want anyone to find you?” Castiel asks, stepping back a fraction, “I can leave-“

            “No!” Dean stops him, hand outstretched, shaking, “It’s-it’s fine. Come in.”

            Things have been awkward between the two of them. Dean wishes he could say it’s been that way since they escaped the Cage. But he’d be lying to himself: which, to be quite honest, Dean is getting sick of recently. He can’t stop though.

            “What seems to be on your mind?” Castiel moves closer, closer than normal. He stands close enough Dean could exhale and the angel could inhale it, if he so chose to.

            Dean steps back a few inches. “Just,” he fumbles, “life.”

            “Life?” Castiel parrots back to the hunter. Dean cracks a smile.

            “Well, more like death, really,” Dean scratches at the back of his head.

            “Does it have anything to do with the case you and Sam returned from?” Castiel asks as he moves a scant in, inches towards Dean.

            “This case… and everything leading in to it,” Dean trails off.

            “Would you,” Castiel tilts his head again, towards a beat up old couch that looks like it has no place in the Bunker, “would you like to talk about it?”

            Dean’s first instinct is ‘ _no_ ’. A big neon sign flashes in his mind, telling him to derail the conversation and return his feelings to whatever bottle they escaped from in his mind.

            It surprises Dean that his body moves toward the couch, and sits comfortably next to Castiel.

            “Sorry if I get comfortable,” Castiel apologizes, shrugging off his trenchcoat and jacket and rolling up his sleeves. He pulls at his tie and pops a button, before relaxing into the couch, pulling one leg over the other. “I’ve had a stressful day as well, and we all take our comforts someway.”

            Dean feels a sharp stab in his brain: a warning that something isn’t right. Maybe it’s a peek of Castiel’s collarbone that flashes in and out of his white shirt. Maybe it’s the fluid way Castiel sits, with a relaxed power, which is wildly different from the rigid and awkward angel he knows. Maybe it’s how Castiel’s blue eyes had lightened significantly, never noticing that in the right light they can look pale and icy.

            But the pain soon eases out of him when he sees something flash within those eyes. Something almost familiar to Dean, that tells him it’s okay. Dean feels relaxed, putting the unease out of his mind to focus on the real source of his mental anguish.

            “So Sammy and I,” Dean starts, licking his lips, “we got this case in this… small town. People getting kissed and getting killed, like an abstinence program gone wrong. Well, we found the monster and… it was something. Its kiss… marks a person for death. You have 24 hours until they come for you… and when it does it plays… it plays this song: like a children’s lullaby. And that’s how you know time is up. The melody finishes and…”

            A hand reaches for his shoulder, and Dean can feel rhythmic pressure, a hand kneading itself over the heavy fabric of the suit jacket.

            “That must have been terrifying,” Castiel coos, closer before. Dean continues, looking straight ahead.

            “It was,” Dean dry swallows, “It was something we’ve never faced before-didn’t know how to beat, to save the victims. To save… me. We were completely blind. And we almost ran out of time, too. Every so often, near the end, I thought I heard what sounded like keys-notes to the song. The first time I heard it I-I froze.”

            “You froze?” Castiel asks, perplexed.

            “I was rooted to the spot,” Dean says, “I didn’t even think of escaping. The only thing running through my mind was: this is it. This is how I die. The earth has gone to shit, I’m to blame, and I won’t ever be able to fix it thanks to Billie-the reaper. All I could hear was her telling me that once I died… I would stay dead.”

            “And the worst thing.”

            “Yes?”

            “I didn’t think that was so bad…”

            Castiel’s hand stills its motions. Dean finally cranes his neck to the side to see Castiel’s face at war with itself. His eyes shift like the tide, like spring waters trying to combat the frozen lakes of winter. Lines disappear and reappear on his face as his mouth and eyebrows flicker like a slide show. Soon enough, the emotions within him call for an armistice, and Dean can see the icy surface resettle.

            “Dean,” Castiel starts, “you can’t be serious.”

            “I was,” Dean answers, “I might still be. Face it, Cas, there’s not much of my life to be proud of.”

            “You take that back, Dean Winchester,” Castiel stands, righteous anger pressing down on Dean, keeping him seated. “You are a hero, a man who should be proud of what he has done. You’ve saved the world many times over, and yes there have been a few casualties, but thankfully you were not one of them and thankfully you were able to fight against the pain, against the evil, to do what has been needed to be done.”

            “Well what if I don’t want it anymore, huh?” Dean stands now, “What if I don’t want to be the one the world turns to when things go to shit when I’m the one who got it that way in the first place? What if I’m done destroying all the good things in my life? I’ve killed nearly everyone I care about and the ones who managed to survive are _damaged_!”

            Castiel’s anger calms, moving towards a simmer. “Dean,” he says, “you still have good things in your life.”

            “Doesn’t look like it,” Dean says, turning away from the angel, from someone else he believes he has screwed up. “I’m like Midas, but everything I touch turns to glass and then _breaks_. I was ready for that bitch to kill me, but Sammy figured out how to stop it, figured out a way to save the others _and_ me. I thanked him… but I wasn’t sure if he made the right call.”

            “He did make the right call.”

            Dean turns back to look at Castiel, where something burns deep within Dean doesn’t think he can look away even if he wanted to.

            “Your brother cares about you,” Castiel says, “and even though it might lead the two of you into making… less-than-ideal decisions, it’s what keeps the two of you fighting the good fight. What makes it possible for you to continue waging war against the Darkness. I believe that to be a good thing.”

            Castiel pauses, looking away for a second before fixing Dean with an even scarier look. Scary, because Dean isn’t certain as to what that look means, and if he’s right… then he’s even more scared at how happy that would make it.

            “I also tend to think of us as a good thing.”

            He lifts an arm slowly, until Castiel’s hand is wrapped around his shoulder.

            “This _could_ be a good thing.”

            Dean doesn’t know who moves in first. It’s like an asteroid on a fatal collision course with the Earth. Dean gets closer to closer to Castiel, until at the last second, Dean regains control of the situation and turns to avoid Castiel’s lips: barely.

            Gay crisis averted…

            For now.

            “Cas?” Dean whispers, mouth close to Castiel’s ear, “what… what was that?”

            “I was just demonstrating,” Castiel breathes, “at how _good_ this thing between us could be.”

            Dean pulls away, suddenly melting within his suit. He pulls a bit on his necktie as his face flushes slowly until he mirrors a tomato or what Dean believes is the cover of the communist manifesto. Castiel stays calm and still, following Dean only with his eyes.

            “I don’t, don’t know what you might think, Cas,” Dean stutters, “this-this thing we have is a _friend_ ship: emphasis on the _friend_.”

            Castiel smirks predatorily, and Dean heats up in more ways then one.

            “Dean,” he purrs, “you and I both know that the… _thing_ , between us, has moved _way_ beyond friendship.”

            “I don’t, don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean moves back, “and I don’t know where you would have even gotten the idea that I would even be interested-“

            “Dean,” Castiel growls, stopping the stammering Dean in his tracks, “I’m done playing this game.”

            “Game?”

            Castiel rolls his eyes, before moving closer to Dean. “I’ve been thinking Dean,” he says, “thinking about us.”

            “Us?” Dean parrots.

            “Yes,” Castiel answers, reaching a hand to lightly touch at Dean’s chest. Smooth fingers curl around Dean’s tie, dragging him forward.

            “W-what about… us?”

            Castiel purses his lips, eyes darting towards the side. Soon enough they return to lock with Dean’s, a foreign smile unfurling from his lips.

            “How I’m _tired_ ,” Castiel laughs, “Tired of dancing around each other. There’s only so _many_ times I can get close to you without just-just grabbing your head and in the heat of the moment and in the throes of passion, crashing our- well… you get the idea.”

            Dean gulps loud, breath hitching when Castiel’s knee jerks upwards between his legs to rest against his crotch.

            “How, back in that cage, I didn’t know if we’d ever make it out before Rowena finished the spell,” Castiel whispers, breath tickling the corner of Dean’s jaw, “How I was ready to give my life for you. And when we got out I made a promise to myself.”

            “What was the promise?” Dean whispers.

            “How I wouldn’t hold back anymore,” Castiel says, voice quiet but with the strength of thunder, “how I wasn’t going to stop myself the next time I wanted to kiss you. To tell you how I really, _truly_ feel for you. That I wasn’t going to go out without you knowing that my feelings for you go beyond mere companionship. That I would show everyone, including you, that there is _more_ to Castiel than just the Winchester’s expendable… little… soldier.”

            “Cas…” Dean says, “you mean so much more to us… to me than just that.”

            Castiel smirks: “Then prove it.”

            Dean doesn’t know why he did it, but once his lips are pressed against Castiel’s, any notion of regret flies away on angel wings.

            Castiel now has both hands on Dean’s chest, pushing him until the back of Dean’s knees hit against the couch. Dean falls, letting Castiel crawl until he’s straddling Dean.

            Hands are rough, everywhere. He can feels Castiel’s calloused hands twisting themselves in his jacket while Dean’s own battle-worn hands are carding through Castiel’s black tufts of hair.

            Castiel pulls back to bite around Dean’s jaw, and tugs at the lapels of his suit.

            “This,” Castiel growls against Dean’s flushed skin, “needs to be off. Now.”

            Dean lets him start to tear at his clothes. Castiel’s hands turn into claws, ripping apart the second-hand suit he picked up from a thrift store years ago.

            “So many layers,” Castiel groans, “so many.”

            Dean’s chest shudders as the cold air hits his hot, hot skin.

            Castiel goes for his own shirt, fingers fiddling with the second button. It pops open with ease, and Dean can just see the edges of Amara’s brand. Its edges are still raised and puckered on Castiel’s tanned skin.

            The markings bring Dean back into reality, and by the time Castiel has reached his fifth button Dean has grabbed his wrists to stop him.

            Castiel quirks his brows, casting a curious glance on Dean’s face while Dean tries his best to look away.

            “Dean…?”

            “I can’t,” Dean chokes out, “Cas… you deserve better. All I do is cause you more and more and more pain. I’ve damaged you enough.”

            Castiel smiles, wriggling one hand free from Dean’s now slack hold. He takes it and pushes Dean’s face until he’s looking directly at Castiel.

            “Dean,” Castiel smiles, “you have done no such thing. In fact, I can honestly say, that you have saved me. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t be here, with you. I’m not damaged… by your touch, I was made whole.”

            Castiel moves in close now, to tenderly kiss Dean. Dean’s green eyes are shocked wide, but soon enough the gentle nibbling of Castiel’s teeth help his eyelids sink closed and return to what was going on before.

            Castiel finally finishes unbuttoning his shirt and slips out of it. He lets the white fabric float to the ground before returning to his attention to Dean.

            Castiel starts to suck a mark near the junction of Dean’s neck and shoulder, biting down at the puckered skin before laving and worshiping it with his tongue.

            Dean’s eyelashes flutter rapidly as a slew of curses and prayers leave his lips without noise.

            Castiel slowly moves down further and further, whispering his admiration towards Dean and his body and his soul within each kiss he presses to the surprisingly soft skin. He again makes a mark near Dean’s hip, hands pushing down at the area where fabric meets skin.

            Castiel looks up at Dean with his ice blue eyes, asking without words for Dean’s permission.

            Dean can’t say no to Castiel, not only because he doesn’t want to, but also because of the way he was looking at him. Dean nods, before his throat releases a scratchy ‘yes’.

            Soon enough Castiel was fumbling with the belt, unhooking it and doing away with Dean’s pants. Dean helps, kicking off his shoes, just as Castiel pulls his pants and underwear down, as well as his socks for good measure.

            Castiel drops the clothing towards the side, raking his eyes up and down the planes and edges of Dean’s body.

            “What?” Dean blushes.

            “Sorry, it’s just… you’re beautiful,” Castiel praises.

            Dean blushes harder: “Yeah, yeah, just… hurry up and get naked too, will ya?”

            Castiel smirks before tossing his own shoes to the side and tears away the final pieces of clothing. He moves in close to Dean, returning to his straddling position, his dick rubbing against Dean’s own.

            Skin meets skin: hot, sweaty bodies moving together in one of life’s oldest dances. Castiel and Dean’s mouths are molded together, each enjoying the taste of the other. Hands trace against scars, bruises, and cuts, tender yet forceful.

            Castiel’s hand slides further south, slipping behind Dean’s back. His fingers toy near the edge of Dean’s ass, before sliding the index into the crack to lightly touch the puckered hole.

            Dean pauses for a moment, a shiver of pleasure running up his body.

            “You like that?” Castiel asks against Dean’s lips.

            Dean can’t speak, only kisses harder against Castiel’s lips. Castiel gets the hint and presses his fingers in further, probing around Dean’s hole.

            Dean, himself, takes his hand and thrusts it between his and Castiel’s bodies. He rubs some of the precum that has already leaked out, taking the combined juices and lathering his palm with it before taking both penises in hand and rubbing up and down.

            Dean has a good motion going, judging by Castiel’s loud moan covered within the cavern of Dean’s mouth. But his motions stutter when he feels a finger enter him.

            “Shhshhh,” Castiel soothes, pressing sweet kisses against Dean’s open mouth. Dean can feel his eyes roll back into his head, but forces them back to where they were so he can continue looking at Castiel.

            The finger is static: releasing currents of pleasure inside, but frozen in place. Before Castiel could do anything, Dean takes initiative and thrusts his hips back, sliding the finger further into him.

            “Nnnggghhh-aaaaaa….” Dean moans, the finger being crushed within his tight hole.

            “I’ll take care of you, Dean,” Castiel whispers, “just relax…”

            Dean nods, moving forward and repeating the motion. He and Castiel try to work up a rhythm. Soon enough, Dean is bobbing back and forth on two of Castiel’s fingers, lost in a pleasure he’s never known.

            He almost forgets about his hand, but in an instant Dean returns to his motions, tugging harder and faster. Castiel’s movements speed to match Dean’s.

            The two are immune to time in their little corner. In that moment, there was no Darkness, no monsters, demons, angels, or even humans. There was only Castiel and Dean, to the elder Winchester, and he wouldn’t care if it were only them for the rest of eternity.

            “Cas…” Dean moans, “Oh, Cas, I’m gonna… I’m gonna-“

            “Do it,” Cas kisses him, “Don’t say it, _do it_. _Cum_.”

            Dean doesn’t know why that was sexy. Maybe it had to do with how gravelly and powerful Castiel sounded in that moment. Maybe it was the iron grip Cas had on his ass. Maybe he had a thing for control. Dean doesn’t know, nor does he care. All he knows is that the orgasm that was ripped from his body was the best feeling he’s ever had during sex, and doesn’t know if it could ever be topped.

            He does know that he can be topped.

            “That… that was…”

            “An experience,” Castiel finishes for him, his own orgasm painted across his chest and Dean’s hand. Their streams had crossed, combining their seed to form a masterpiece on their flesh.

            Castiel rolls off of Dean and into his awaiting arm, tucking his head underneath Dean’s chin.

            Dean curls in tighter around Castiel, pushing himself against the warmth Castiel instinctively radiates. He closes his eyes and breathes in the smell of him and Cas, together.

            He knows there is some part of him that is screaming. A part of him that is cursing him out, dragging him back into the closet and beating him for touching another man how he would touch a woman: a voice that, unsurprisingly sounds like his father’s.

            But then Castiel moves his head to the side, hairs tickling Dean’s chin, and Dean can’t help but smile. The voice goes silent.

            “Dean? Dean!”

            Sam’s voice is far away, but close enough that he can hear him. Dean still lies there for a few seconds, before stirring.

            “We should probably get dressed.”

            Castiel smiles as well: “Yes. We should.”

            They continue to lie there for a few more minutes, Sam still lost within the maze created by men they’ve outlived by decades.

            Soon, though, they pull apart. Castiel offers Dean his shirt to clean off his mess.

            “You sure?” Dean asks, quirking a brow.

            Castiel smirks, “I’ll clean it with my grace after.”

            Dean shrugs before wiping away the evidence of his and Castiel’s actions before handing it to its owner so he can do the same. Dean moves slow, hole tender after the amazing time Dean had with it. He grabs his underwear, pulling it on before his pants follow. He re-buttons his shirt, reties his tie and grabs for his socks. Pulling each one on before placing his feet back within his shoes. The final thing that goes on is his jacket.

            He turns, finding Castiel standing behind him fully dressed.

            “How?”

            Castiel smiles, “Angel grace is very useful.”

            Castiel moves forward, hand stretched until it lands on Dean’s face. Dean is lost within Castiel’s orbit, unwilling to move away. He’s caught within the light blue gaze of his angel. Castiel’s eyes squint, and start to glow a bit.

            Dean feels warm, warmer than he’s ever felt before. He feels something deep within him awaken and stir. It starts to grow before clicking into place with something else. His muscles relax, his mind rests, and Dean feels a great peace inside of him.

            It’s such a rush, he leans in and kisses Castiel slowly and passionately.

            After more time has passed, the two break for air.

            “So… is this thing between us… good?”

            Dean smiles. “This thing isn’t good. It’s the _best_.”

            Castiel returns it, smaller and different. “So… you’re mine?”

            “Yes,” Dean whispers reverently “I’m yours…”

            Looks are exchanged between them. Dean’s full of love and adoration, and within Castiel’s a reflection slightly warped.

            “Dean!!!”

            “You should get out there…”

            “I will,” Dean nods, heading towards the door. He stops, hand on the jamb before turning an eye towards the angel. “You coming?”

            “I’ll be there in an instant, you go on ahead.”

            Dean nods, before rounding the corner and going to find Sam.

            His eyes stop glowing, returning to their normal color in a few seconds.

            Castiel stands there, hands in his pocket, a calculating smirk affixed to his face. His eyes look off to the side for a moment before he huffs an aggravated breath.

            “What do you want Castiel?”

            A voice inside of Castiel roars against his chains: “Lucifer!”

            Lucifer, in Castiel’s body, sighs, “Yes, dear brother?”

            Inside of Castiel’s mind, his true grace is caged, hidden behind the traps Lucifer set when he took over his body. He might have been trapped in his own body, but he was still able to see. To hear. To… feel.

            “What you have done was not only immoral but… but… a complete abuse of my body!”

            “Relax, Castiel, yeesh,” Lucifer kicks back on the couch he and Dean had sex on not too long ago, “you should be thanking me. I did you a favor. I know how much you’ve been wanting to do that for _ages_.”

            Castiel growls: “What is between Dean and I is _only_ for Dean and I to discuss. What you have done completely ruins the bond we share and could shatter any trust he has for me!”

            “It’s not like he doesn’t feel the same as you do, ya know,” Lucifer snarks, “All I did was pour gasoline on a slow burning flame. You’re _welcome_.”

            “It doesn’t matter what I feel for him or what he may feel for me,” Castiel mutters, “I gave you my body for one purpose and one purpose only: to destroy the Darkness.”

            “Who’s to say I haven’t been doing that?”

            “Because sleeping with Dean has nothing to do with Amara!”

            Lucifer smiles wide with his vessel’s muscles: “Oh, poor, naïve Castiel. That had everything to do with beating the Darkness.”

            Castiel stills, “What are you talking about?”

            Lucifer leans forward, continuing his conversation aloud with the voice in his head: “Let’s just call the fantastic moment Dean and I shared my… ‘Opening Salvo’.”

           “What?”

            Lucifer’s cold, pale eyes go dark. “The Darkness entered this world through Dean. She _thinks_ she has a claim to him. What I have just done is… taint him, so to speak. I left a message for her by playing with her toy: telling her I don’t respect her power or fear the repercussions.”

            “Dean is not something to fight over!” Castiel cries from within, “he is someone to fight for! A person who does not _deserve_ this!”

            Lucifer shrugs: “War is war. There has to be a few casualties.”

            “You’ll never get away with this,” Castiel tells him, “even if you somehow manage to defeat the Darkness, Dean and Sam will never let you survive. Once they discover who’s really controlling my body, they’ll stop you.”

            “I’m not too sure about that, assbutt,” Lucifer laughs, “if I don’t want to leave… then I’m pretty sure Dean won’t want me to either.”

            His mind quiets.

            “What…” Castiel asks, “what did you do?”

            “Nothing really,” Lucifer picks at his nails, “just made sure that when the time comes… Dean will know where his loyalties lie.”

            Castiel is horrified, and starts to pull harder at his chains. “You monster!” he shouts, he cries, “If I get control I don’t care what happens to me but I will destroy you! You hear me, I will _end_ you!”

            Lucifer laughs loud.

            “Oh, Cassie, don’t be mad because I got to him first. Just enjoy your window view of what I call ‘Apocalypse Redux’!”

            His laugh rings out louder and louder, contained within the small room. He’s stretched fully out on the couch, body flowing with all the power he could ever want.

            Towards the front of the Bunker, Dean and Sam enjoy a nice meal, unaware of the plots beginning to weave themselves within the walls of the Bunker.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you enjoy it?  
> I hope I did a good enough job with every detail in the book and that all who read liked it.  
> Please leave kudos and comments!!


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